


respite on the ice

by starlightwalking



Series: Ataquenta Silmarillion [15]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bittersweet, Gen, Helcaraxë, Hope vs. Despair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24863284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Elenwë looks for hope amid the endlessness of the Grinding Ice.
Relationships: Elenwë & Idril Celebrindal, Elenwë/Turgon of Gondolin
Series: Ataquenta Silmarillion [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076816
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	respite on the ice

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost from my Hobbit/LOTR drabble collection; I'm moving my Silm stuff out of that fic. I will also be reposting the comments from those chapters so I can preserve them.
> 
> This was the discarded beginning to something that eventually became [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18979657). i found it in my drafts and decided to finish it up as a drabble.  
> "Telpevontál" is Quenya for "Celebrindal" / Silverfoot, Idril's epessë.

She kept her child close to her heart. Wrapped in blankets, head covered by furs, feet bound up in leather, her sparkling toes confined—Itarillë’s tears had long since frozen to her face, her lips numb. Elenwë was loath to let her daughter out of her embrace; her love could keep Itarillë warm. It _would_. It _had_ to.

Turukáno was a prince, a leader. He made sure his wife and child were safe, checked on them frequently, but he needed to be with his father and siblings. So Elenwë clutched her daughter to her breast with no husband to share her burden, sheltering Itarillë from the bitter cold. She would not let her go, no matter what.

It was a rare occasion that Itarillë, so young and afraid, _wanted_ to leave her mother. But the winds had died down, and Findekáno swore he could see the shore afar off, and the Ñolofinwëans felt hope warm in their chests at last. There had been so much suffering, so much death, but now...

Itarillë wanted to dance. At first, Elenwë refused, but Turukáno’s eyes were child-bright. “Let Telpevontál feel her feet again,” he begged, and at the behest of both husband and daughter, she was forced to relent.

The air was still. The ice was quieter than it had been in... Elenwë shivered, unable—un _willing_ —to recall how long they had been in the bitter north. To her, the sudden change felt ominous, but the rest of the Ñolofinwëans lifted their faces to Varda’s sky and she could not begrudge them their brief respite from the horrors of the Helcaraxë.

Itarillë had been confined for so long that she stumbled at her first few steps. She joked that perhaps she would have to give up her epessë if she could not remember how to dance, but Elenwë saw the worry behind her eyes.

Itarillë was so _young_ —less than a century. Elenwë’s mother had begged her not to leave, begged her for Itarillë’s sake, but why would she listen to the mother who turned her back on her when Elenwë married a Ñoldo? No, she would stay loyal to her loving husband, and fight for a new life for their family on the other side of the sea.

Elenwë watched and felt her mother’s grief as Itarillë relearned how to use her sparkling feet. Her daughter’s steps were clumsy, still confined to her boots, but a smile pulled at the corner of her lips and she began to rasp out a soft song.

Turukáno squeezed Elenwë’s hand. “We’re so close,” he promised softly. “Soon she’ll be able to walk barefoot on grass again.”

Elenwë smiled with cold-chapped lips, because the only other option was to give into despair. “I love you, Turno,” she murmured.

He looked at her with the depth of their grief in his dark eyes, asking without words: _How can you love me, when I led you here? How can you stand to look at me still?_

But Itarillë’s song only grew, and the stars shimmered above them, and for a moment—one brief, precious moment—Elenwë let herself hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just pretend that Fingon _did_ see the shore, and that Elenwë survives, and everything is alright... although the sudden stillness on the ice was supposed to be a prelude to it breaking and Elenwë drowning :( so close, yet so far...
> 
> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/618715790501380096/respite-on-the-ice).
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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